I
therefore, for the moment, omit all inquiry how far the Mariolatry of
the early church did indeed eclipse Christ, or what measure of deeper
reverence for the Son of God was still felt through all the grosser
forms of Madonna worship. Let that worship be taken at its worst; let
the goddess of this dome of Murano be looked upon as just in the same
sense an idol as the Athene of the Acropolis, or the Syrian Queen of
Heaven; and then, on this darkest assumption, balance well the
difference between those who worship and those who worship not;--that
difference which there is in the sight of God, in all ages, between the
calculating, smiling, self-sustained, self-governed man, and the
believing, weeping, wondering, struggling, Heaven-governed man;--between
the men who say in their hearts "there is no God," and those who
acknowledge a God at every step, "if haply they might feel after Him and
find Him." For that is indeed the difference which we shall find, in the
end, between the builders of this day and the builders on that sand
island long ago. They _did_ honor something out of themselves; they did
believe in spiritual presence judging, animating, redeeming them; they
built to its honor and for its habitation; and were content to pass away
in nameless multitudes, so only that the labor of their hands might fix
in the sea-wilderness a throne for their guardian angel. In this was
their strength, and there was indeed a Spirit walking with them on the
waters, though they could not discern the form thereof, though the
Masters voice came not to them, "It is I." What their error cost them,
we shall see hereafter; for it remained when the majesty and the
sincerity of their worship had departed, and remains to this day.
Mariolatry is no special characteristic of the twelfth century; on the
outside of that very tribune of San Donato, in its central recess, is an
image of the Virgin which receives the reverence once paid to the blue
vision upon the inner dome. With rouged cheeks and painted brows, the
frightful doll stands in wretchedness of rags, blackened with the smoke
of the votive lamps at its feet; and if we would know what has been lost
or gained by Italy in the six hundred years that have worn the marbles
of Murano, let us consider how far the priests who set up this to
worship, the populace who have this to adore, may be nobler than the men
who conceived that lonely figure standing on the golden field, or than
those to whom